


Better than medicine

by hookedontaronfics



Category: British Actor RPF, Taron Egerton - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fic, Short & Sweet, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 10:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21097961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hookedontaronfics/pseuds/hookedontaronfics
Summary: This is told from Taron’s perspective so it’s a bit of a different format for a reader fic, but I felt inspired to get in Taron’s head so there you go. Short but cute fluffy piece! Generated from the prompt below. Enjoy! xPrompt: Can I request the reader taking care of Taron when he’s sick?





	Better than medicine

The alarm went off far too early and I groaned as I rolled over and swatted the alarm a couple times before finding the button to turn the grinding sound off. I blinked blearily in the dark, trying to orient myself and smiling at my girlfriend’s sleeping form. How she hadn’t stirred, still resting sweetly through that incessant beeping, was beyond me, but she had hours before she had to be up for work so I swung my legs over the side and quietly slid off the bed, not wanting to wake her.

As soon as my feet hit the cold floor I shivered, and before I could even leave the room I sneezed, looking over my shoulder quickly but y/n still hadn’t stirred. I sniffled slightly before going to the bathroom, feeling a bit under the weather as I brushed my teeth quickly. But I had a series of important meetings today and I wasn’t about to miss them for a few sniffles.

I walked back into the bedroom and grabbed the clothes I’d set out the night before, pulling them on quickly before walking over to the bed and kissing my girlfriend sweetly on the forehead, her y/h/c hair splayed out across the pillow in the way I loved so much. She mewled softly in her sleep, making me smile gently in the semi-darkness, shafts of light starting to filter in through the curtains as the sun began to rise.

I made myself a cup of coffee, grateful for the automatic maker y/n had gifted me a couple of Christmases ago. I could not have asked for a better, more loving person to share my life with, and things had only gotten better and better. I’d asked her to move in with me 6 months ago, and our life together was nothing but laughter and joy. And I fully intended to make things official when the timing felt right.

With that thought I let myself out of the house, making my way across London and sitting through a few meetings, but as the day wore on I started having trouble focusing. My nose felt incredibly raw after having to wipe it every few minutes, and I couldn’t stay warm to save my life. When I had a few minutes I texted my girl, who would be busy at work I was certain.

<Hope you’re having a good day at work, love. Always on my mind> I sent.

<How are your BIG IMPORTANT meetings going today?> she answered immediately. Ah, must be on a break then.

<Good, but I’m feeling under the weather and I just want to curl up in bed. Preferably with you.> I returned, before having a sneezing fit and shivering some more. I emptied my pocket of used tissues into the trash, feeling like absolute trash, but I had something important I wanted to do after I left the offices.

<Awww my poor baby. I’ll take good care of you as soon as I’m home from work. I’ll make you some soup and we can veg on the couch together.>

<Sounds perfect> I sent back. I sat through one more meeting, staring a bit off into the distance and probably missing half of what was being said as I tried to not just melt onto the floor, sweating buckets now and wondering if anyone else noticed my nose running like a faucet. Once hands were shaken (I used a generous amount of hand sanitizer) and backs patted, I got myself out of there as quickly as I could. The tube ride was a bit excruciating, the noises too loud and the overwhelming scent of food and bodies in an enclosed space making me want to gag, but I just put my earphones in and rested my head against the cool pole, nearly missing my stop in my feverish haze.

I found the store I was looking for relatively easily, being ushered into the cool space and greeted with display upon display of sparkling jewelry.

“Ah, Mr. Egerton!” a jeweler greeted me, as I’d made an appointment ahead of time. We talked about what I was looking for in this particularly important piece, and he showed me several options while I fought my eyes from tearing up. Whether that was from my cold or from my emotions, I couldn’t have told you. When I had made my decision, happy with my choice and knowing it would be perfect to surprise y/n with, I paid for it and skipped the packaging, preferring to shove the square black box in my pocket instead. While I never felt unsafe in London necessarily, taking the tube with a clearly-marked jewelry bag hanging from my arm was probably not the best idea.

With that done, I made my way back home, grateful for the dark as I kicked my shoes off and fell into the couch, pulling the duvet around myself and dozing off for a bit until I heard the front door open.

“Babe?” y/n said, walking in with a bag of groceries in her arms and looking concerned. I had not the slightest idea what time of day it was, and I only felt worse than I had before.

“Here,” I croaked out, my throat on fire and a bit of a cough rattling my chest.

“You sound like shit,” she commented sympathetically.

“I feel like shit,” I sighed, pulling the blanket around myself tighter, only my eyes peeking over the edge of it.

“Do you want to eat?” she asked, coming over and feeling my forehead and gasping slightly. “You’re burning up, babe.” I only groaned in response as she hurried about the house, finding some medicine in the bathroom cabinet and making me swallow it down. She turned the telly on, the volume low, and mothered over my sick self, anything else she might have wanted to accomplish in the evening completely forgotten as she sat on the couch with my head resting in her lap, running her fingers through my sweaty hair as the fever tried to break.

Once the medicine started bringing my fever down, I realized I really was hungry and hadn’t had anything to eat but the coffee and breakfast sandwich I’d had early in the morning, so she went to the kitchen to make some soup, and I hoped she wouldn’t catch this awful illness.

I sat up and after a coughing spasm, stood up tentatively, my bladder needing as much attention as my stomach now. I used the toilet and washed my hands with soap and water as scalding as I could manage, staring at my pale face and slightly bloodshot eyes in the mirror. I looked like hell, I couldn’t help but think. But I wasn’t going through this alone, and that made all the difference. How I had gotten so lucky to find the love of my life was beyond me, and every day I counted my stars, especially moments like these.

I found her in the kitchen and she turned to me, sauce spoon in hand, and smiled so brightly I couldn’t help but smile back.

“You’re alive,” she teased me lightly.

“Barely,” I managed, wanting to wrap my arms around her and kiss her until the sun went down, but resisting the urge. The last thing we needed was both of us sick.

“Well I’ll get you back in tiptop shape in no time,” she grinned. “And at least you don’t have anywhere to go tomorrow.”

“No but you have to work and I’ll be by my lonesome,” I whined slightly, making her shake her head.

“I can’t take a sick day just because you’re sick,” she giggled at that as I pouted playfully at her. “My word, what’s that in your pocket?” she asked after a beat, her eyes having obviously drifted down, and I’d completely forgotten the ring box making a very clear presence in my tight jeans.

“Uhhhh,” I said, standing there a bit dumb-founded. “It’s just a surprise, for you. And the soup’s burning,” I added, as she gasped and turned around to take the over-boiling pot off the burner.

“What did you do?” she asked, once the soup had been rescued.

“Nothing we haven’t already talked about babe,” I smiled, leaning against the counter and removing the black box from my pocket, holding it up slightly. “But this wasn’t exactly the moment I was thinking of,” I grinned, and then sneezed again for emphasis. “Shit,” I said, wiping my nose yet again as y/n’s face moved between shock, awe, vulnerability, love, joy, sympathy and finally settled on fondness for me.

“Oh, T,” she said, crossing the space and pressing her lips to mine before I had a chance to protest. I melted into that kiss, as I always did, sick or otherwise. I wrapped my hands in her hair as she slid her fingers around to my back and down to my arse, squeezing slightly and making me chuckle against her lips.

“Think I’m gonna need more medicine for that,” I teased her lightly as we both pulled apart, smiling at each other almost shyly, the way we did when we first met. I loved her so much and moments like these reminded me that I could never get enough of her.

“Gonna let me see that?” she asked, playfully trying to snatch the box from me as I held it above her head.

“Nope,” I said, letting the ‘P’ pop and smirking slightly at her. “Not until I can surprise you properly, and definitely when I’m no longer hacking up a lung,” I chuckled at that.

“Oh fine. I want to be surprised anyway,” she grinned, going to grab bowls out of the cabinet for us. I quickly went to slip the box in my underpants drawer - she could easily find it if she wanted to, but I figured knowing about the mere presence of it was enough.

We settled on the couch together, eating our soup and laughing at stupid game shows, and I imagine that I was already starting to feel a little bit better. I nuzzled into her neck and kissed her there sweetly, as she affectionately ran her fingers through my messy hair. In that moment, everything was right with my world no matter my aches and chills. Being with the person you loved most was better than any medicine money could buy.


End file.
